Alone
by Moonless Dusk
Summary: Sometimes, family has a strange way of finding us.
**Fourth DandelionClan challenge! Really into these sad prompts. What's wrong with me?**

* * *

"Char!... Char!" A distant voice called.

A gray tom stirred and blinked his tired blue eyes. "Y-Yes, Roseheart?" the tom asked the deputy drowsily.

The calico she-cat rolled her eyes and smiled. "Rabbitstar wants me to take you, Snakeleap, Heronpaw, and Petalpaw out for a boarder patrol. Those lazy RiverClan cats pushed their boarder past the tree line and now we have to remark them."

Char rose to his paws and let out a long yawn. "I bet Rabbitstar plans on giving Frogstar an earful tomorrow night," he chuckled. The thing that Char liked about the WindClan leader was that she isn't afraid to say what she thinks and knows exactly how to get her point across.

"Right, well, don't keep us waiting, you lazy furball," Roseheart joked and padded off to the camp entrance to gather the rest of the patrol.

Char arched his back and stretched his legs out. The warrior followed the she-cat, but took a moment to look over his shoulder. Char was thankful for the live he had now, more than he would ever let on. Thankful for the hospitality of the oldest elder to the youngest kit. Getting to where he was wasn't an easy task for Char.

* * *

 **Four moons old...**

"Mama? Are you sure you and Papa are okay?" Char asked.

About a month ago, it started as a tickle in Papa's throat. He claimed it wasn't fur, and it wouldn't go away, even after drinking from the river. Mama started to feel the same way less than a week later, which set off an alarm in the two parents. Char was oblivious to the situation, all he understood was that he was learning how to hunt early.

It only got worse from there. There were nights Mama and Papa coughed themselves to sleep. They would wake up in the morning with swollen throats. They both only saw five seasons, but their joints started to hurt with every movement. Simply getting up caused a surge of nausea and dizziness that wouldn't go away until the next morning. Char eventually found himself hunting for all three of them in the barn they called home. Just the other week, the gray kitten was told he had to build his own nest from the hay. This greatly upset the young kit, whom was so used to curling into his mother's warm belly on cold nights.

The white she-cat nodded. "Yes, Char."

"There's no pain tonight, son," his father reassured.

Little did he know, that would be the last thing he would hear them say.

* * *

 **16 moons old...**

The blue eyed tom had traveled a great distance after his parent's passing. He met a lot of nice families on his seemingly endless journey, some would even offer to take him in. Char politely declined every time, it just didn't feel right to let any other cat call him their son.

He had a daily routine for the entire year, if you can really call it that. Sleep where he could, eat whatever he came across. He's seen more things in those twelve months than most stationary cats would get to see in their life time. He's seen meadows of flowers that stretched for miles, the high and low tides of countless beaches, captivity of wild animals several times bigger than any regular cat, the genorosity of Twolegs towards wild cats, and rows of structures that are bigger than any other forest, and much more.

One day, he found himself in a moor. The rabbits were filling, but the open plains provided little to no protection from the icy wind. Then he heard a wail. His head snapped to a panicked kit. She was odd looking, her ears were flat against her head and she had a stubby tail that shook wildly. She was stranded in the middle of a river, clearly losing her balance. There was a group of pale furred cats standing on a cliff, watching helplessly.

He wasn't sure what came over him, but the young tom could feel the adrenaline coursing through him. He unsheathed his hooked claws and charged. In one strong bound, he leapt on to the closest stone and sank his claws in to the moss. The gray cat bunched his muscles and made a mother leap, landing next to the quivering kit. He quickly grabbed her by the scruff and tried to look for a way to get to the other side.

"The log!" The she-kit squealed and pointed her tail to a mostly submerged fallen tree. The white water that weaved around the stray branched daunted the loner. However, he still willed himself to make the jump. He took a sharp intake of breath as he landed. the flimsy timber shook under their weight, drenching Char up until his chin. He firmly planted his claws in to the worn barn with every careful step. Once all four of his paws touched the ground, he gently let the frightened kit down before collapsing on the river bed.

Char's chest heaved, and water dripped out of his dark pink nose.

"Rabbitkit! Rabbitkit!" he heard someone call out.

"Rabbit kit," Char repeated and smiled at the kit beside him. "What a nice name."


End file.
